


Less and More Than Friends

by Lilbreck



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-12
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-10 02:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilbreck/pseuds/Lilbreck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under threat from enemies old and new, Angel battles his darker impulses as he and Willow become something other than friends. (Sequel to A Brief Courtship)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dance Me On and On

He knew that at one time he had loved Buffy. He could clearly remember the first time he had seen her, remember the urge he'd had to save her from anything that could hurt her. It had to be love. Only love could make him want to save someone who not only didn't need his help, but would likely end his existence if he approached her.

"His name is Scott. He's a nice, solid guy. He makes me happy...   
and that's what I need: someone I can count on."

Listening to her drone on and on in an awkward and obvious attempt to make him jealous, though; that was making it hard to really believe that he'd loved her. He needed this conversation to be over before he did something he might regret. The only thing he could think of that would both get her to leave faster and not raise any suspicion that he wasn't still a perfectly trained lap-dog was to just stare at her with a pained expression.

Apparently, he did pained well enough to make her uncomfortable, because she left shortly after. Unfortunately, the damage had already been done. Until Buffy had arrived bearing blood from the local butcher's, he had convinced himself that he wouldn't visit Willow's house tonight, wouldn't watch her from the shadows like a pathetically love-struck stalker. However, his frustration and disgust with the Buffy situation had torn away at his will to fight that urge. Slipping out into the darkness, he found his way unerringly toward his nightly haunt. He was relieved when he didn't sense Faith anywhere around the Rosenberg house.

Lately, Sunnydale's newest slayer had been sticking very closely to Willow. While he could only mourn the passing of Kendra in a very abstract way, all the while bemused by the irony that she had escaped being Drusilla's kill only to die in a plane crash on the way home, he did regret that her death had brought forth a slayer with such a blatant interest his witch.

When he stepped onto the patio outside Willow's room, he was shocked to find her waiting for him. He was used to her pretending as if she didn't know he was there watching her every move. This time, however, she opened the French doors, looked directly at him, and then turned and walked back into the room. Unable to take his eyes off her, he silently moved to her door and watched as she slipped behind a folding screen near the wall.

Trying not to stare at her silhouette on the thin paper, Angel let his eyes wander around Willow's room, seeing what had changed and what was still the same. Finally, he noticed a pile of clothes on her bed that he assumed were there for her to try on. Quickly steering his mind away from that potentially dangerous line of thought, he settled his eyes on the doorway in front of him. He knew there was a barrier there, knew that there wasn't a way he could get past it, but he still couldn't resist the urge to try.

Just as his hand reached out, fingertips gently testing the give of the magic at her threshold, she stepped out wearing a red and white dress that didn't truly flatter her. Given her expression, she wasn't really that comfortable in it, either.

"It's for the Homecoming dance. I'm going alone, but I should still look nice, you know? I wasn't going to go at all, but then Buffy was very persuasive. She said that Faith would be going, and if I didn't go too, she'd feel like a fifth wheel, and no one deserves that, not even overly aggressive and pushy slayers who could spend a little less time hitting on everyone around them. Not that I have a problem with sexually aggressive females or people who are gay or bisexual. I just have a problem with people who don't know when uncomfortable babbling means stop."

While part of him, as always, marveled at her ability to talk so very much and so very quickly while still needing to breath, another part was stunned by the fact that she was talking to him. Not only talking to him, but acting as if they were friends, as if he wasn't the same creature who had brutally tormented her and killed the boy she loved – the boy she _should_ be going to this dance with – less than two months ago.

Realizing that, although she hadn't actually asked for his opinion, she was waiting for him to say something, he did his best to be as honest as he could while not damaging this tentative peace she was offering.

"It looks... all right."

Picking up another outfit, Willow headed back behind the screen in silence. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, so Angel let his mind wander and a fantasy take hold, just as he would have had she not opened her doors tonight.

_They are in his room at the mansion and she's getting ready for some party Drusilla insisted they throw. Teasingly, she refuses to let him see her slip in and out of the dresses she's trying on for his approval, knowing how much anticipation it was building in him. His sweet Willow knows so well how to play at being an innocent for him._

When she came out again, she was wearing a black, full length dress with some flower and sunshine theme. More relaxed, but still unwilling to be blunt and potentially hurt her feelings or bring this surreal scene to an end, Angel nodded his head and simply said, "Nice."

Now leaning against her door jamb, he trailed his fingers idly along the invisible barrier separating him from her room and watched her slip behind the screen with another dress. While she still didn't say anything, this time she was humming quietly to herself and Angel was once again back in his room where watching her get ready for a party, the tune she was humming transformed into some classical record he was playing for background noise.

He was so engrossed in the fantasy that it took him a few moments to realize that she actually _had_ stepped back into view wearing a strapless, black, full-length dress. At his prolonged silence, Willow gave a small smile and rolled her eyes.

"Let me guess. 'Okay'?"

Straightening up, Angel slipped both hands into his pockets to stop himself from making a fool of himself by trying to reach through the door to touch her.

"I was going to say 'perfect', actually."

It was her small smile and blush which haunted him the next day. He knew it wasn't wise to indulge himself like this. She was better off pretending he wasn't there, better off not thinking they could be anything like friends. Friendship led to trust, and trust led to dark school hallways where little girls trembled in the arms of monsters still believing that their friend wouldn't actually hurt them.

He would hurt her, though. He couldn't fool himself into thinking otherwise. Even as he had talked to her through the safety of a magical barrier, in the back of his mind he was figuring out ways to get her to cross the threshold to where she had no defense against him. He wouldn't go through with it while he had the soul, of course. He'd already been shown, however, how easily he could lose that soul.

If he were wise, if he were noble, hell, if he were decent, he would stay away from her. But one thing he had never been, not as Liam, Angelus, or Angel, was decent. So he went to her again the next night.

While part of him had been hoping she would what to spend time with him again, he definitely hadn't anticipated she would look so sad as she waited for him.

Her door was open and she was sitting on the floor with her back to the bed. Knees drawn up with her arms wrapped around them, she was the picture of guilt and misery. Pulling a patio chair near the door, he sat down and waited for her to speak. He didn't have long to wait.

"I'm a horrible friend."

Willow didn't appear to need a response from him, which was a good thing, because he didn't actually have one that went beyond automatic denial. All she really seemed to need was for Angel to sit where he was and listen as she spilled her tale of Buffy becoming obsessed with being Homecoming Queen, Cordelia roping Willow into helping her in her fight against Buffy, and somehow this being all Willow's fault. He was unclear on how that last part worked.

He was clear, however, on the fact that Willow and Xander's plan to get Buffy and Cordelia back on semi-friendly terms was doomed to failure. Putting those two in a closed space together and hoping they somehow worked it out was just asking for someone's funeral. Angel didn't have the heart to tell Willow that, so he told her that he hoped it all turned out all right, then wished her sweet dreams.

It turned out that he was wrong. Well, in a way. While the limo ride itself didn't magically make Buffy and Cordelia best friends, the part where they had to fight off various demons together then watch as two random girls shared the crown they were both fighting for did make them friendli_er_. Still laughing quietly over Willow's description of their disappointment, Angel didn't stop to think before he asked if she had enjoyed dancing.

He could see the sadness appear in her eyes, and felt even guiltier when he heard it in her voice as she told him she hadn't danced. He tried to tell himself that he had only asked her to dance because he wanted to chase away some of that sadness, that he didn't thrill the naïveté in her acceptance or the fulfillment of plans he'd only half formed as he was talking to her last night. As he lightly rested one hand on her waist and held one of her hands in the other, however, he didn't stop himself from imagining how easy it would be to lean down and sink his fangs into her trusting throat.

He hummed some long-forgotten melody as they swayed on her patio, peace and contentment flowing through him for the first time since he was human, almost banishing the dark fantasies. He would have stayed like that forever if he hadn't felt the approaching dawn. As he started to pull back, Willow tightened her hold on his shoulder and stared up at him, confusion clearly visible on her face.

"Angel, what are we doing?"


	2. I Came So Far For Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike comes to town on personal business.

Spike moved quickly and silently through the garden of the Crawford street mansion. While it wasn't exactly necessary to hide from good old Angel, the look on his face when Spike managed to sneak up on him was always worth the effort. Now if he had a bit more patience, he'd wait until he'd gotten what he had come to town for before confronting his absentee grandsire. Patience, however, had never been, and probably never _would_ be, one of Spike's strong suits.

Slipping into the main room, he caught sight of Angel brooding by the fireplace, some pretentious and snooty book forgotten in his hand. Moving closer, Spike caught a scent he half remembered from objects Angelus had brought back to the mansion after a night of stalking and also from one _memorable_ meeting in a school library. While he couldn't see why the little girl would forgive the vampire that had planned to turn her and suck the world into hell, it was her he could smell in the room. Apparently, he had underestimated the stupidity of white hats.

The scent was relatively fresh, but she had been here alone. Now, it could be something perfectly innocent, but he had known Angelus too long, and vampires didn't change all that much – not at their core. Soul or no soul, he could see the signs of Angelus playing out a long game on some poor unsuspecting chit – even when the overly dramatic vamp couldn't see it himself. Stepping further into the room, anticipating how much fun this was going to be, Spike let the glee show in his voice.

"Someone's been a naughty, _naughty_ boy."

He was disappointed in how surprised Angel was to see him. There had been a time when he could never have gotten this close to his mentor undetected. This wasn't the same demon he'd almost worshiped – not the same vampire he'd spilled blood, sweat, and various other bodily fluids with. This was a hollow shell; not worth the effort of taunting. A flirtatious grin tilted his lips and an amused twinkle entered his eye as he amended his thought: _almost_ not worth the effort.

"What _were_ you doing with that sweet little morsel alone in this big, empty mansion? I'm sure her friends and that – ahh – _fatherly_ watcher would just love to know your intentions."

He couldn't suppress a chuckle when Angel's fists clenched and he heard a growl rumble up from his chest.

"Spike. What are you doing here? Drusilla get tired of you again?"

A sharp stab of resentment, pain, and anger welled up in Spike's chest. A large part of him wanted nothing more than to go at Angel fists and fangs bared. However, that wouldn't get him what he really wanted. Taking a deep breath, he let out a chuckle and spread a hand over his chest.

"That hurt, mate."

Dropping his hand back to his side, he strolled past Angel, lazily threw himself into a sprawl on the couch, and began to root around his pockets for a smoke and a lighter. Angel slowly followed him, apparently deciding this was a talking visit, not a fighting one. The only problem was, Spike really didn't have a conversation planned. Taking a drag from his now lit cigarette, he shrugged his shoulders and went with that he did best: he would wing it.

"You know, I don't _get_ you. Is the girl really worth staying in this bloody town for? S'not like she's really going to give you the time, now is it? You killed her boyfriend and tormented her; humans get upset over that kind of thing. They don't get it like we do."

Turning his head to stare at the fireplace, Spike changed his tone from condescending to self-pitying, deciding in a split second to take a risk. After all, the bigger the risk, the bigger the reward.

"Of course, who am I to say anything about it? Here I am, still beating my head against a brick wall over Dru, jumpin' through any hoop she wants me to. Why I'm here, ain't it? She said I needed to come back to Sunnyhell. Something 'bout needin' _closure_ or some such nonsense."

While it may have looked like Spike was lost in his own little monologue, he was actually keeping a close eye on Angel. It was a dangerous game he was playing, talking about why he was here, the whole time making Angel think it was all about him. While he wouldn't be around to see the ponce beat himself up over it, he would have fun imagining the dawning horror when Angel realized that he could have saved Willow and hadn't. The thought alone was enough to bring a maniacal smile to Spike's face.

"So that's why I'm here, _Daddy_, to tie up loose ends and make everything right in my princess's eyes."

Angel had tensed up when Spike called him Daddy. It had obviously brought back memories of games they used to play when the days were too long and they were both far too bored, Drusilla clapping her hands and squealing as she watched. There was a reason Spike had almost worshiped him; Angelus had been damn good at whatever he put his mind to, especially with a willing and eager pupil.

And he'd been willing and ever so eager, hadn't he. He learned every sly look, soft touch, and cunning pose. Angelus had taught him the right tone to use and how to spot the chink in a person's armor and then exploit it. The rewards for success were spectacular, but the punishments for failure had their own appeal. The slice of a well handled knife carving his sins into the skin of his back, or entire days spent hard and wanting, tied to a bed and not allowed to come while Angelus and Dru tormented him. The memory alone was oftentimes enough to have him on the edge and ready to go in seconds. School was out, however, and it was time the teacher learned a lesson or two.

Giving him a disappointed once over, Spike flicked his still burning cigarette into the fireplace. His days of longing for Angelus to return, to focus his attention on him were gone.

"You're not the demon I need to talk to. Haven 't been him in a long time, now have ya?"

Shaking his head as if to clear it, he gave Angel a smile calculated to leave him on edge and wary.

"Ta, love. I've got some last minute things to pick up for the princess, then I'll be out of your town and out of your overly-gelled hair."

He was almost through the door when Angel's voice stopped him.

"Whatever you're here for, Spike, get it and get out quick. Buffy may have worked with you before, but that doesn't mean she won't stake you on sight."

Without turning back, Spike chuckled and replied, "Why, Angel, it _almost_ sounds like you're worried about your little boy. I'm touched."

Before Angel could reply, Spike was out the door and had it closed behind him.

As he got behind the wheel of his DeSoto, Spike considered taking Angel's advice. He could just grab Willow and leave town with her. However, Drusilla had been very specific on how she wanted her new sister turned. She had left some of it up to Spike – which dress Willow would wear and how much of their plans he could reveal to the little human – but it had to be done in Sunnydale. Luckily for Spike, there were a few empty homes he could choose from so they could be alone without any pesky do-gooders interrupting, including a very nice one at the edge of town he had decided was perfect for his plans.

Having parked his car a few blocks from her house, Spike made his way through several backyards until he reached the patio outside Willow's room. As eager as he was to start in on his fun, he still couldn't resist stopping and just watching her. It had taken him some time to really see what had Angelus so enthralled with the little redhead. In all honesty, he hadn't really gotten it until he'd actually been in the library helping them to plot Angelus's downfall.

> _Spike can feel Angelus's newest obsession at the end of the table radiating sheer terror. What he feels underneath her fear, however, is what makes his eye teeth practically itch to drop down._
> 
> _It's power. Nothing refined, sharpened, or honed – but power nonetheless. It calls out to an instinct that came with his demon soul, the instinct to gather power and make it his own. He's so very tempted to abandon his plans all together and simply snag the girl and run off. He can already picture what a beauty she'll be, all corrupted and dark, brimming with power and all his._
> 
> _The thought naturally leads to his dark goddess and the reason he came here in the first place. As tempting as the potential powerhouse is, Drusilla is his _destiny; _always has been and always will be._

Spike had gone through with his plan and the girl had remained with her friends, unharmed. It had been a mistake on his part, one that Dru had sent him here to correct.

There were countless ways to lure an unsuspecting young thing outside at night but sometimes the simplest ways were best. As he reached the edge of the pool of light spilling from the doorway, he made sure to lightly tap a potted plant with the side of his foot. The plan worked better than he had thought it would; Willow immediately threw open the doors and stepped outside, starting to talk even before she had fully crossed the threshold.

"Angel, I'm sorry I said..."

Spike had been in motion from the moment she was through the barrier, so his surprise at hearing Angel's name didn't stop him from grabbing her by the arms. By the time Willow had registered that not only was it _not_ Angel outside her house but that she was in danger, Spike had already maneuvered both of her hands behind her back and was holding them with one of his, while his other hand went to her mouth.a

Leaning in to where her neck and shoulder met, he inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of fear coming off her. He let a soft growl rumble out of his chest and chuckled at the small whimper she gave in response. Eyes closed in near bliss, he lifted his head slightly, letting it rest against the side of hers, his mouth near her ear.

"Sorry, Red, Angelus isn't here right now. I'm sure he'll be so disappointed he's missing all the fun we're gonna have together, though."


	3. I Left So Much Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike tries to put Drusilla's plan into action. *This chapter contains sexual assault*

Spike was pleasantly surprised when Willow didn't faint. While it would have made transporting her easier, it would have also made him think less of her in the long run. However, he could see in her eyes that she was trying to come up with a way to escape and that just would not do.

"Now, pet, are you going to be a good girl, or are you going to make a lot of noise and bring your parents out here so I have to kill them?"

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, but whatever she said was muffled by his hand, so he uncovered her mouth, sliding his hand to her throat, trusting that her love for her parents would keep her quiet.

"I-I'll be a good girl, just please, just, just, don't kill anybody."

He slid his hand back behind her head, leaned his forehead against hers, and smiled.

"Now I can't promise a lot, but – if you behave – I can promise that no one else has to get involved. Just a bit of business between you and me, little girl, and then I'm out of this town for good."

He took her small nod and slight whimper to mean she was on board with the plan – well, what she thought the plan was. What the little chit didn't know wouldn't cause her to panic and test his patience. Pulling back, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead while reaching into his coat pocket.

"Little pressie from Dru. I haven't forgotten that you're the same witchlet in training who shoved a soul down Angelus's throat and I'm not all that eager to have one shoved down mine."

He held up an antique-looking necklace, letting it swing gently in front of her face.

"This is where you start being a good girl. Slip this on for me right quick and promise not to try any of your tricksy mojo on me. Have to warn ya, if you do, this is going to give you one hell of a nasty shock."

After she slipped on the necklace, he grabbed one of her hands in his and dragged her through the same backyards he had used to get to her house. She was silent during their walk as well as the car trip, quietly chewing on her nails and stealing glances at him.

Not trusting the girl in his car alone, even for the length of time it would take him to make his way to her door, he forced her to crawl across the seat and exit through the driver's side door. Though she looked confused when he opened the trunk and pulled out a bulging garment bag, she still remained silent. Pocketing the keys, Spike entertained thoughts of how he could get her to talk again. There was nothing worse than a boring companion.

Pulling her along behind him like a misbehaving child, he strode into the house and quickly up the stairs to the master bedroom. A quick pull on her arm sent her stumbling into the room itself while he tossed the garment bag on the bed.

"Right then, let's get this show on the road. Strip."

Eyes wide, Willow quickly started backing up, holding her hands in front of her uselessly.

"Now, now, just wait. Just hold on. I'll behave. I won't scream or try to escape – or any of that stuff. Just no stripping and nothing that goes along with stripping. Alright?"

Now there was a bit of backbone. Looked like he wasn't stuck with a boring companion after all. However, as much as he usually relished a good fight from a meal, she was supposed to be more than that, so he was going to have to lay out the rules before things got out of hand. Spike was in front of Willow in an instant, one hand fisted in her hair, forcing her to tilt her head back.

"Here's how it's going to be, kitten: I'll tell you what to do. You do whatever I say. In return, I won't hurt you any more than absolutely necessary. If you disobey me, if you try to escape – if you fight me at all, Red – I _will_ hurt you. Now I'm gonna enjoy hurting you, 'm not gonna lie 'bout that, but it doesn't have to happen. Understand?"

At Willow's frantic nodding and quiet moan, Spike continued.

"Now just to be nice, and because I think you're a girl who does best when she's got all the facts laid out for her, I'll explain what's going on. You're going to strip off your clothes..."

When it looked as if the girl in front of him would panic, he raised his free hand and put a finger over her lips, all the while fighting the urge to give in and hurt her just a bit to get his point across. Drusilla had been very clear on how she wanted things done and this was a test for him, one he was determined to pass. So instead of inflicting pain as he wanted, he tried his best to calm the girl.

"Shh, shush, it's all right, just listen. You're going to take off your clothes, then I'm gonna run you a nice warm bubble bath. That sounds nice, don't it? Now, I'm going to be in there with you, just to make sure you don't try anything foolish. But the only thing that's going to happen in there is you're gonna get a nice bath. Then, after you're all done with your bath, we're going to pick out a pretty dress for you to wear. That should be fun, right? A pretty dress for a pretty girl."

When it looked like Willow wouldn't fight him anymore, he eased himself away from her. Telling her to take off her clothes, he opened the garment bag on the bed so he could find the silk robe that Drusilla had picked out. As much as he wanted to take his time and savor the first site of his new playmate naked, he knew it would only get her all nervous, stuttering, and worked up again and he didn't have the patience to deal with it. However, he did take more time than he really needed just so he could watch her out of the corner of his eye.

While she wasn't stripping to entice, there was something appealing in the shaking hands and wide, averted eyes that appealed to the desire to corrupt that his time with Angelus, Drusilla, and Darla had instilled in him. He quickly pushed aside the momentary regret he felt at the thought of her turning shredding any innocence and modesty she had.

Seeing Willow hesitate to remove her underwear, he turned his head toward her and lifted an eyebrow. Apparently, it was enough of a warning for her. After she was naked and he had helped her into the robe, he led her to the bathroom and told her to take a seat on the commode. Taking off his duster and throwing it across the counter, he started the bath running and gathered the soap, shampoo and conditioner.

True to his word, nothing happened in the bathroom except for Willow getting clean. Though, much to her obvious discomfort, he did insist on washing her hair himself. He could see that she was relieved when he didn't try and dry her, instead letting her do it herself. It was easy to allow her these little things because he knew what was coming next. Over the years Drusilla had taught him how to turn dressing a woman into a seduction and he was sure she had picked out dresses that would fit a seduction beautifully. Of course, knowing his dark goddess, she had added a little something extra to the clothes to help Willow get into the mood.

Standing her at the foot of the bed in front of a full length mirror, Spike began dressing Willow, keeping an eye out for the tell-tale signs that whatever drug Drusilla had likely used on the garments was taking effect. It was when he began tightening the laces of the corset that Spike noticed the flush beginning to spread across Willow's skin and the increase in her heart rate. Finishing the double bow at her back, he looked over her shoulder to see her eyes in the mirror. It was obvious from the confusion filling her eyes that the poor girl didn't understand what was happening to her.

Running his fingertips lightly up her back, over her shoulders and then softly down her arms, Spike leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"Shh, Spike's got ya. I'll take care of everything, don't you worry your pretty little head."

Taking her hand, he slowly drew her to the bed and sat down, pulling her onto his lap.

He could see she wanted to protest, wanted to somehow stop his hands from sliding along her thighs and slowly gathering up the hem of her shift. He knew, however, that it would take more than her mortal willpower to fight her own body's reaction. While he didn't have the gift like his wicked love – he couldn't completely bewitch someone's mind – Angelus had brought forth and nurtured the ability in him to focus so completely on someone that they couldn't look away. Add to that the drug Drusilla had thoughtfully provided and the little witch in his arms didn't stand a chance.

His hands came to rest on her bare hips, lifting and resettling her on his lap which forced her to hands to his shoulders to keep her from falling. He began to subtly rock her hips, applying a teasing pressure where it would wreak the most havoc on her crumbling defenses.

"That's it, love, nice and slow."

Moving his hands further up her body, he couldn't help but groan when she began to move with a little more force, rocking her hips in a slight circle.

"There you go, Red. Your body already knows how to get what it wants. Daddy's got everything you need, just let yourself take it."

> _"Come on boy, show Daddy you know how to take what you want."_  
>   
>  Pushing down onto the body below him, William could feel Angelus sink even deeper until their hips were flush against each other. As he raised back up, he couldn't help but groan with feel of the slow drag out. When he heard the responding rumble of laughter, he took a breath to smart off and promptly let it out in another groan when he felt Angelus wrap one hand around his unflagging erection and begin to slowly stroke.  
>   
>  "There's my sweet whore. So tight and responsive, can't keep anything to yourself. Let me feel how much you love it." 

The sudden intrusion of a long buried memory did little, if anything, to take away from the pleasure of the moment. To be honest, it added even more of a perverse thrill to what he was doing. After all, wasn't he taking what Angelus wanted most, what Angelus had _failed_ to take himself? The idea added a bit of urgency to his actions, left him aching to see her come undone, knowing that Angelus would be enraged when he found out.

Pulling down one strap of her shift Spike placed a quick and dirty open mouthed kiss against the top of her breast before nipping and licking his way up her neck. Sliding his hand around to her rear, he pressed her more firmly against his quickly hardening arousal as he finally reached her ear.

"Just a bit harder now, sweet. You've got to work for it. Show Daddy how good you can be, show me how much you want it."

> _"That's it, m'boy, ride Daddy hard as you can. Show me how much you need it, tell me."_  
>   
>  He can feel the strain in his thighs and the ache in his cock, but none of that can drown out of the feel of Angelus's hand holding his hips hard, pulling him down even harder. Neither can it distract from the flush of shameful pleasure with each dirty order and demeaning compliment growled into William's ear.  
>   
>  "Tell me, William. You know what I want to hear." 

Pulling back to look at Willow, Spike could see her pupils were blown wide and she was completely lost in the effects of the drug that had laced her clothing. With something bordering on desperation, he lunged forward again, this time toward her mouth. Barely giving thought to the fact that she was human, and therefor fragile, he let loose his frustration and need into the kiss. When he finally drew back, Willow's hands were gripped tight in his hair, and her eyes were wild and just a bit lost.

"Spike, I need – please, I want – please, Spike..."

> _"Please, Daddy, I need it."  
>   
>  William couldn't hold back the groan when he felt Angelus's fangs sink into his neck. This was the one time he felt like he really belonged to the other vampire._

Spike was abruptly pulled out of his memories and realized Willow was still wrapped around him and his fangs were buried deep in her neck. He could feel her orgasm in the tightening of the fingers digging into his hair and hear it in the new tone of wonder in her moans.

Pulling away from her neck and the temptation of her blood, Spike inhaled the scent of Willow's freshly cleaned hair, anchoring himself into the present. It was then that he realized that he could feel Angelus coming closer. This wasn't part of the plan and, after dismissing several scenarios, he couldn't figure out a way to get out of here non-dusty _and_ with Willow. So – again – he went with what he did best; winging it and taunting Angel.

Spike quickly rolled so that Willow was under him, legs dangling off the side of the bed, then pushed himself off her and rushed into the bathroom to grab his duster, throwing it on as he returned. He'd have plenty of time to come up with an explanation to give to Dru on the long drive back. Right now, he had to think fast on his feet if he wanted to get out of this sans a pointed wooden stake to the heart.

Hearing the other vampire enter the door downstairs, he quickly pulled Willow up by one arm and placed himself with his back to the window and his arms around the human in front of him. When Angel burst through the door, Spike had one hand resting low on Willow's stomach, the other wrapped around her neck and was whispering in her ear. His eyes, however, were quickly trained on Angel.

"Sh, it's all right, pet. I know, Angel's a bad, bad man, ruining all our fun."

Apparently, shock at the scene could only hold Angel immobile for so long. When Spike saw him make a move, he jerked Willow back against him, causing her to give a slightly confused and obviously drugged groan.

"Spike,"

"Ah, ah, daddy-dearest. No speaking out of turn."

Smirking at the growl of frustration coming from Angel, Spike started gentling rubbing Willow's stomach in small circles. Just enough for her drugged body to react and Angel to notice.

"Did you come to save the poor, defenseless witch from the big, bad vampire? I'm sure she'll be very grateful. She might even give her big, strapping hero a thank you kiss."

Turning his face further toward Willow and sliding his hand firmly down between her thighs, Spike continued in a low and throaty voice.

"Would you do that for Daddy? Give the hero a big kiss? That's not all that he wants from you, sweet girl."

"Spike, enough." He could hear the anger building in Angel's voice and see it on his face, but he was on a roll now. Applying more pressure from the hand still rubbing at her center, he let the moan she gave shut Angel up for him.

"Angelus wants you to swallow away all his thoughts of redemption with that pretty little mouth, wants to smother his guilt with those creamy little tits, and lose his soul between those virginal thighs. Would you let him do that, plum?

"I know what you're thinkin', though: 'He doesn't want those things, he's one of us!' I know he's got most of your lot fooled, but you're smarter than that, Red, I know you are. You've seen it in his eyes, haven't you? Seen that hunger when he's lurking outside your window watching you get undressed, following you home and hanging on your every word. Underneath that brooding shell, deep under that pathetic _soul_, he's still a demon and he still wants now what he wanted then. You might want to think on that before you come rushing outside to meet him again."

With a nasty smirk, Spike quickly moved both hands to Willow's back, shoved her hard at Angel, and rushed to the window.

Pausing to look back and waiting until Angel had looked up before giving a quick wink, Spike made sure he left Angel truly unsettled.

"Take real good care of our girl there, Daddy. Don't want her hurt before I see her again."

Without waiting for Angel's reaction, Spike dove out the window and hit the ground running. He had managed to leave the white hats behind to clean up the mess he had made, left Angel off balance and maybe even a bit paranoid about his potential return, and had possibly even made the little girl distrustful of the gelled wonder. All told, not a bad ending in his book.

Granted, he hadn't really done what his wicked princess had sent him here to do. She would be in a state when he came back without a new little sister in tow and he wasn't really looking forward to that. However, given enough time and torture, he was sure he could convince Drusilla that the chaos left in his wake was more than enough closure for them both.


	4. Everybody Knows It's Coming Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow is not dealing as well as she believes.

The world never stopped when you wanted it to, no matter how chewed up and mangled your insides felt. The big, original evil didn’t care that Willow was still trying to get her head straight; it just wanted to mess with Angel and Buffy. And her mother didn’t take into account that getting involved with her life – and trying to burn her at the stake – right _now_ was not the best thing for a mentally and emotionally shaken teen. 

No, the bad things didn’t stop happening just because someone desperately needed them to. It seemed like the world was slowly coming to an end – Buffy lost her slayer-ness and Giles got fired – and then the world really almost _did_ end. Of course they stopped it, but it only added to the nightmares that already plagued Willow. Then something… unexpected happened.

Someone died.

Not that someone dying was unusual, but this wasn’t the normal Sunnydale death. This was a human death by slayer hands. It should not have been shocking that Faith would kill someone – especially to Willow. Remembering how much those brown eyes reminded her of blue ones, the same greedy want/take/have look that led to… It really shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was. But she _was_ shocked.

Then she came face to face with what should have been impossible. Given what she had seen since Buffy came to town, she had thought herself pretty much open to believing anything. After all, she had seen vampires resurrected from bone, the Hellmouth open, and found out her stuffy school librarian used to be a leather-wearing, demon-summoning bad boy. Now, though, she was face to face with what she could have been.

This creature – this _thing_, was bound up in leather and cold, evil smiles and, at first, Willow only feared for her life. Then her doppelganger from another universe got up close and personal. A flash of red and the smell of cheap perfume morphed into dark hair and expensive cologne in Willow’s mind and that image, in turn, shifted to white blond, leather, and cigarettes. 

“Wanna be bad?”

> _“Show Daddy how good you can be, show me how much you want it.”_

When they caged this nightmare with her face, she heard what went unsaid by Angel. While Buffy tried to assure her that she could never be like the locked-up demon, she remembered Spike lovingly recounting Angelus’s plans to turn her. As they planned how to stop a bloodbath at the Bronze, memories of gifts and letters mixed with the drugged half-memories of a night she had been trying to block. A clear memory came forward once, and only because she caught a look she didn’t want to name in Angel’s eyes while she was dressed up in her evil twin’s clothes.

> _“Underneath that brooding shell, deep under that pathetic soul, he's still a demon and he still wants now what he wanted then.”_

However, there were roles to play – both in plans and in day-to-day life – and she could not let memories get in the way of that. As brave as that thought was, it didn’t actually make her a very good actor. And when push came to choke-down on the stage, her evil alter ego had her beat without question. She was not entirely sure she should be grateful that Buffy listened to her and sent her vampire-self back to the other reality. Sure, it made her feel better at the time that she chose not to kill, but that still meant that there was Willow-shaped evil out there in the universe.

However, there was no time to dwell on could-have-been when there was a dark slayer wreaking havoc in Sunnydale. Still, while Buffy was understandably shaken by the possibility that Angel was making time with Faith, Willow couldn’t help but be a bit relieved. She didn’t assume this meant he would totally give up his nightly vigil outside her door – the one he still kept despite the fact that she called him a creepy stalker right before the white blond/leather/cigarette night no one talked about, but she did have hope that he would ease up some if he were preoccupied with the homicidal slayer.

She received an unpleasant shock when her constant fear was used as a sick act to get closer to Faith and figure out the Mayor’s plan. It didn’t bother her that Angel had to fake being soulless; it _did_ bother her that no one thought to warn her. She got that things had to move fast, but there had to have been a moment where she could have been told. Instead, she was left panicking on the inside while putting on a brave face, believing she was going to face the demon who probably wanted to torture her personally for having ruined his big plans. There was a moment, when they entered the mansion and Angel was thrown into them, that she almost bolted.

It was only after Faith ran and Buffy and Giles explained what they had done that Willow realized she had tears streaming down her face. When she saw the looks of confusion from her friends, it dawned on her that they _didn’t remember_. Oh sure, if they had let themselves look back, they would vaguely recall that Angelus had done some threatening things, but they didn’t remember that he had stalked her, killed her boyfriend, and had planned to turn her right before sucking the world into hell. She understood pushing these things to the back of the mind – she had become an expert at it – but she had assumed that this was too big to just _forget_. Before the anger could really set in, though, she saw Buffy’s sudden realization and growing horror.

“Willow, didn’t Giles tell you what was going to happen?”

Before she could answer, Buffy had already turned to Giles, looking like a child who wanted desperately to be told that she had just misunderstood and there weren’t really any monsters.

“I thought it best to let as few people know as possible. She was never in any danger, so I thought…”

Willow was sure he had some line of reasoning that had allowed him to justify this to himself, but she stopped really hearing him when she felt her knees start to give out. Instead of the hard floor, though, she felt Buffy’s arms around her. Her world became a blur of warm slayer and indistinct mumbling, followed by her own bed. She wasn’t alone; Buffy stayed wrapped around her, as if she could keep the memories and pain at bay if she only held on tight enough.

The memories refused to be pushed down any longer, however. As she sobbed helplessly into Buffy’s shirt, she relived everything. Guilt and shame coursed through her as she remembered that, mixed in with the anxiety and dread that accompanied the first note from Angelus, there had been a petty thrill of triumph and pleasure. The small part of her that had always come in dead last to the Buffys and Cordelias of the world was glad that someone was picking her over them. As the letters and gifts kept coming – and the reality of who was sending them and what he was capable of _really_ began to sink it – she no longer got that feeling. The terror began to build and never truly let up, not until she managed to give Angel back his soul and put a leash on Angelus.

It was possible that being the one to actually perform the spell and stop Angelus helped her to cope. Her nightmares began to fade away and she was able to be in the same room as Angel without a churning in her stomach. That was when she decided that the only way to get passed what he had done – and wanted to do – without a soul was to try to be his friend. Looking back, she wished she had never opened her doors. If she hadn’t, then he wouldn’t have danced with her and she wouldn’t have felt the need to go to his home a few days later to talk to him about what was going on.

> _“Angel, you can’t keep lurking outside my window like a creepy stalker-guy. Friends don’t do that!”_
> 
> _He moved closer to her than he had since before he lost his soul. His hand half-raised toward her before it dropped back down._
> 
> _“Is that what we are? Friends?”_
> 
> _Hurt flashed through her along with the familiar feeling of rejection. Before she could stammer out some sort of apology for intruding and turn to leave, Angel grabbed her hand._
> 
> _“I’ve tried pretending that my obsession with you is somehow normal and won’t go any further than it already has. Dancing with you outside your room was nearly heaven, but I’m not sure how long I could have gone before I did something we’d both regret.”_
> 
> _At that, he let go of her hand and turned to the fireplace, staring at it instead of looking at her._
> 
> _“I’m thinking of leaving Sunnydale. I don’t know how long I can fight the demon, and I don’t want…”_
> 
> _His words trailed off, but Willow could imagine all too well what he intended to say. Instead of feeling the relief she was sure he expected, though, she started to feel angry and panicked. After all that she had done to try to recover from his bout of being evil and he was just going to run out and leave her to find a way to cope with this alone?_
> 
> _“So that’s it, then? Things get too hard for you, and you think it’s all right to just leave? Things get difficult and you decide that it’s best if you’re somewhere that’s not here? That’s not being noble, or – or doing the right thing. That’s running scared. It doesn’t make you not evil, it makes you a coward.”_
> 
> _It wasn’t so much that he was leaving; it was that it almost said that he thought that she wasn’t strong enough or that he didn’t think being there for her and helping her carry her secret was worth the struggle against his bad side. Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest thing to her – some dusty old book – and hurled it at him._
> 
> _“I’m doing everything I can to be all right with what happened, learning to cope with the nightmares, and you’re letting a couple of bad urges call the shots? You are a coward! God, I can’t even look at you right now.”_
> 
> _As she ran out into the daylight, part of her wondered if it really was best if he left. It would be easier on her if she wasn’t reminded of all the bad things she was trying to heal from every time she saw him or someone mentioned his name. She mentally shook the thought and slowed from a desperate run into a determined stride. However, she was now angry with herself as well for wanting to take the easy way out. It would hurt less if he was not here, but she wouldn’t be able to overcome her fears then. She would instead end up living her life as a slave to them, convinced that every noise in the dark was either Angelus or Spike come back to finish what they started._
> 
> _They would be back, she was sure of that. She had seen enough scary movies through the gaps in her fingers to remember that the bad guys, especially the supernatural ones, always came back. She might not have Buffy’s strength, but that didn’t mean she had to live her life always afraid. She would work on her magic and face her demons – or demon, as the case may be. However, in order to do that, she had to have Angel here, to administer his presence in small doses, like a poison she had to take to build up a tolerance. And she would explain that to him, as soon as she could face him without this anger and desperation choking her. He would have to understand; she would make him understand._

As she looked back on it, she wished either that she had stayed to talk it over with him and calm down, or that she had held onto her anger a bit longer. Maybe just long enough that she wouldn’t have gone running out into the dark to apologize as soon as she heard a noise outside that she had assumed was him. If she hadn’t gone outside then, maybe she wouldn’t be so broken right now. Maybe she wouldn’t have Spike’s voice in her head, telling her that Angel wanted more than she was willing to give, that he still wanted to do all the things he had promised in his horrific ‘love’ letters.

More importantly, she wouldn’t have to remember the other things he had said or the way his hands felt. She wouldn’t have to deal with the way her entire body had burned, even while she wanted so badly for it not to. Inside she had been screaming no – screaming and wanting to escape, but outside she had been straining against him, begging him for things she didn’t even have words for.

That was the worst part, she decided as her sobs slowed. Clutching Buffy, she was sure that she _could have_ overcome what Spike had said and done, if not for the way she had felt and the fact that it would torment her forever. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. Her first time even making out with someone shouldn't have been with a ruthless killer who had kidnapped her and started a twisted game of dress-up with her as his doll. Then, after all that, to have piled on the humiliation by breaking down her carefully-constructed house of lies? 

Deep down, she knew that a soul lost or replaced didn’t really change what a person wanted, it only changed if and how they went after it. However, she had been able to bury that knowledge and separate Angel from Angelus, the friend from the demon, in her mind. One was an evil monster who wanted to break her and do unthinkable things to her, while the other one was a hero who only shared the same face.

But Spike cut through those delusions so sharply that, even as drugged as she was, she had felt it. He hadn’t been aiming for her; she knew it was all for Angel’s benefit, but it still broke a part of her. Since then, there had been a part of her that just didn’t feel like it fit right – as if it was not really a Willow piece anymore. It belonged to Angelus and Spike, and it was like some grotesque, growing seed of darkness inside her. That darkness seeped into her dreams, strange half-nightmarish fantasies where wrong became right, and she begged for things she didn’t want and was terrified of.

Willow knew that she could fight back that dark inside of her, though, no matter how far it spread. Angel hadn’t told anyone what he had seen or what he knew had gone on in that abandoned house with Spike. He’d put her back in her own clothes, even though his hands shook and his eyes remained averted. He’d sworn that he wouldn’t tell anyone, that it was her decision. And she _had_ decided. She had kept that secret to herself, never really healing. It may not have been healthy, but it kept her together; she could stay strong as long as no one else knew.

Except, she obviously couldn’t stay strong. She may have been able to win against the darkness, but the secret that festered inside her seemed to have made her walls hollow and brittle. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Buffy about cold hands that set the drug in her system burning, or the feel of gel-stiffened, bleached hair crisp between her clutching fingers. She couldn’t tell Buffy of the mix of want and shame that she still felt. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to tell anyone about the nightmare fantasies she had in which she turned the tables on Spike and used her magic to bend him to her will. She couldn’t stand to see the disgust on Buffy’s face that she felt choking her the morning after one of those awful dreams.

Maybe she could share just a bit of the weight, though. A part of the horror that Buffy could understand, relate to, and maybe even help her with. Willow buried herself deeper into her best friend’s arms, and took a deep breath.

“Spike told me things.”

When she felt Buffy’s arms tighten to an almost painful level, she lightly tapped her friend’s arm to let her know she still needed to breathe.

“He told me that, even with the soul, Angelus wasn’t really gone. But the way he said it, it made me afraid. I know Angel wouldn’t hurt me, but the things Spike said, it made me believe that the badness wasn’t really buried, that one day Angel could snap.

“I tried so hard to be brave when I thought Angel had lost his soul again. I tried to tell myself that he wouldn’t get to me. But I was so afraid, Buffy. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

Buffy didn’t dismiss her fears. She didn’t tell her everything would be okay, or that she would always protect Willow. In fact, she didn’t say anything. She simply kept holding onto Willow, rocking her slightly, and crying along with her. It didn’t solve any problems, or vanquish any fears, but it made Willow feel like she wasn’t _alone_ in her fear. It let her know that Buffy understood and was there with her. 

It felt good to finally not be alone. Yes, Angel knew more about what went on that night, but he was a part of it. The fact that he knew, the fact that he had _seen_, just made it that much more traumatic. As much as she tried to pretend otherwise, he was the monster that got to her first. He ripped her world apart long before Spike dragged her off to play a sick game of dress up. Having that monster see her vulnerable again made her that much more worried that one day Angelus would be back for her.

For tonight, however, she could just let Buffy wrap those strong slayer arms around her and hold back the dark and all the demons in it. Tonight, she didn’t have to be strong or brave.


	5. Take One Last Look At This Sacred Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small war and a goodbye.

He questioned his decision to leave every time he woke up, and every time he was tempted to go to Willow he remembered why he had to get as far away from Sunnydale, and her, as possible.

That fact was only driven further home when he came face to face with what could have happened to Willow. She was not the sweet little innocent girl that drove his demon mad with the urge to corrupt. She wasn’t even the end product of what he would have done to Willow; far too sane for that. However, this Willow from another reality was a wakeup call. He had to get away before he did something that he couldn’t take back.

Of course, the universe was a cruel place, and so he found himself playing at being soulless as he unknowingly terrified the one girl he would do anything to protect. As much as he never wanted Angelus to make an encore appearance, he hoped that Giles was on hand if it ever did happen. Given that he had suffered at Angelus’s hands and knew Willow was aware of the fate she had just barely escaped, one would think the Watcher, of all people, would have thought to warn the poor girl. One look at Willow’s tear-soaked face and Angel knew that no one had.

As much as he ached for her, he was also impressed by her ability to keep her head when she had to have been absolutely terrified. Maybe she really didn’t need him after all. She had her strength to keep her from crumbling when the others need her, and she had Buffy there to catch her when it was safe to fall. If he were a better man, he wouldn’t feel ready to choke on the bitterness of that thought.  
That was exactly the problem, though; he was not a better man. He had always been morally weak and easily tempted.

“I get it now.”

Angel had been so lost in his thoughts that Willow had somehow managed to sneak into the mansion without him knowing it. Though, to be fair, she probably didn’t sneak so much as walk in the unlocked front door. Trying to cover the fact that she had caught him by surprise, he simply looked at her with a questioning expression.

“I get why you have to leave. I know it’s more about you than me, and I’m not even mad anymore.”

Willow walked further into the room, not stopping until she was nearly as close as when they had danced. Grasping his hand in one of hers, she looked up at him with wet eyes.

“I’m not okay right now. Not even all that close to it. But I will be okay. I’m going to be strong enough to make it through this. And I get that you can’t stay here and be strong with me, and I’m okay with that now.”

Before he could respond, not that he could think of anything to say, she leaned in and hugged him. It was quickly over; in some ways far too soon, in others not soon enough. Still without waiting for him to say anything, Willow turned and walked back out the door she had entered.

This was where the story should end. That felt like a final goodbye. But life, especially life on the Hellmouth, was never wrapped up with all the ends tied up nice and neatly with a bow. He had to walk around in the same town as her with that goodbye resting like a lead weight in his gut.

A part of him was angry that she chose now to let him know she could get along just fine without him. He understood what prompted it; she kept it together while in the clutches of the evil Mayor and a crazy slayer. She even managed to snag a few important pages from the Books of Ascension while she was in there. But that didn’t change the fact that he still had to see her with that goodbye playing in the back of his mind on an endless loop.

He was grateful that she stopped by before he could show up at her window after Prom. He hadn’t gone, but part of him had hoped for another dance, no matter how ill-advised it was. And it was so very ill-advised, especially when Buffy’s hints for reconciliation during patrols were eating away at his already precarious control over his darker urges. He had finally stopped those hints by telling her that he was leaving after the Ascension. She, of course, had assumed it was about their relationship, and he let her.

God, he really was a coward. 

It was just too bad he wasn’t enough of a coward to make up an excuse not to search the dead professor’s apartment with Buffy when Giles asked him to be back-up. Everything went smoothly up until they hit the street and Buffy started in on him. He understood what she was going through; he just wished he also had the luxury of behaving like a child anytime he felt like it. That was unfair, wasn’t it? Knowing it was an unfair didn’t stop her attitude from getting to him, though.

“Isn’t it even a little hard for you?”

He should have kept his mouth shut when she asked that. He should have pulled tight his cloak of brooding and just walked away. Apparently, along with not being good at confrontations or resisting temptation, he was also not good at walking away when it was in his best interest.

“You know, I can’t understand why you don’t get it. Willow understands that it’s about me needing to be away from here! Why do you have to be a brat about it?”

There was a look of confusion on Buffy’s face that Angel didn’t really understand for a moment. When what he said replayed in his head, however, he felt dread in the pit of his stomach.

“First of all, it’s good to know what you really think of me. Second of all, I just told Willow before Prom that you were leaving. How would you know what she _understands_ about it?”

Angel was pretty sure there were demons in the world who could actually turn back time by at least a few minutes. Right then, he wished he was good friends with one and that they owed him a favor. Since that wasn’t the case, he had to try and minimize the fallout of his slip-up.

“Willow and I are friends. We talk.”

Before he could find out if his quick verbal sleight of hand was enough to stop that particular line of questioning, there was a sharp pain in his upper back and chest. He saw a look of shock on Buffy’s face before he fell forward and, through the dizziness, heard her yell his name. 

While he managed the walk to the school library on his own, he could feel that he was weaker than he should be. Hell, he could feel the sweat almost pouring from his body. Even when he concentrated after the arrow was removed, he couldn’t feel himself start to heal. Angel tried to ignore the pain he felt; tried to not let on to anyone else that something was wrong. However, when he had trouble even standing, and then managed to fall after getting upright with Buffy’s help, he knew there was no hiding it.

It was all downhill from there. Time became a blur and he wasn’t sure how he made it back to the mansion. He knew that he was hallucinating. Sometimes Darla would come to him, calling him her darling boy. She told him that he was hers forever, with or without a soul. Other times it was Drusilla calling him daddy and wanting to play games. The worst (best) times were when it was Spike. Drusilla’s darling, deadly boy with his flirting looks and sharp smile or his boy William with the wide-eyed wonder and stammering protests, it didn’t matter. He felt the same dread (thrill) at his presence.

As in reality, the Spike of his hallucinations refused to be ignored; refused to be anything less than the center of Angel’s attention. It didn’t stop at what they could (and had) done together. He would tell Angel of all the things they could do with Willow; all the ways they could bend and break her and make her stay with them forever.

He tried to ignore the tempting tales, he really did. But he could so easily picture Willow wearing only a corset and sitting on Spike’s lap, her back to his bare chest and his cock buried deep in her sweet cunt. And if it was his sweet boy, William, beneath her, they would put on a show just for Angel, tempting him to abandon the sketch of the pair he was working on.

“Impatient children. If I stop now to play, we’ll have to start this all over again in a few hours.”

A voice answered, telling him that he would be okay, but it was neither Spike nor Willow, so he ignored it in favor of his fevered dreams. And fevered they were. Because if it was Spike of the sharp edges and wicked tongue with Willow, it was useless for Angel to resist. Spike always knew how best to tempt Angelus, and he was never afraid of the consequences.

There were voices that played in the background of his fantasies; some he recognized and others that were too distant to identify. He knew when it was Willow in the room, though. Those were the only times he fought the poison enough to actually surface.

Reaching out, he grabbed hold of her hand and held it to his lips. Letting their joined hands fall to his chest, he struggled to talk to her one last time.

“I was wrong to think I could leave you. I’m not strong enough to fight temptation, and I’m not good enough to avoid it all together. I wish were a strong man. A better man. I’ve never been the kind of man that would be good enough for you, and I regret that.”

Her eyes were worried and he couldn’t really make out what she said to him. It didn’t really matter, though. She was here and holding on just as desperately as he was, and that was enough. Too soon, though, he saw her look toward the door. Buffy was looking at them with a very confused expression on her face. Angel struggled to sit up. He may not have been a good man, but he still wouldn’t leave Willow to face his former lover alone. If he concentrated hard enough, he could understand what people were saying.

“Faith?”

Buffy shook her head at Willow’s mention of the other slayer’s name. If he could shake the fog out of his head he could have understood why she was important right now, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.  
“I’m not going to let him die. He can drink from me. If he doesn’t take it all –if you can use your magic to stop him –we can cure him without me dying.”  
There was a reason this was a very bad idea. If the poison hadn’t been running through his veins right then, he could have emphatically explained all the ways in which this was very wrong. He didn’t have the energy or the time, so he had to keep it simple.

“No.”

Both Buffy and Willow turned quickly to look at him. Struggling off the bed because he didn’t feel comfortable letting Buffy stand over him while he spoke, he continued.

“I’m ready to die, now. I’ve lived more than long enough, and the world needs you too much to risk it.”

Without waiting for their argument, Angel stumbled into the main room, bouncing off the doorway and furniture. He could hear them quickly following and could vaguely hear them calling his name. He had to get away before his cowardice won out and they could convince him to drink.

He felt a sharp tug and he was suddenly facing Buffy, still a bit unsteady on his feet.

“I’m not going to lose you. You can’t leave me like this!”

She punctuated her yelling with a hard punch to his face. He managed to stay upright, but could feel his world getting fuzzy and distant again. A second punch and he nearly went down. He could make out Willow yelling something, her voice upset. Right before a third blow landed, he made the connection and realized that she was upset with Buffy.

Perhaps if the poison had acted faster and left him weaker, or if he hadn’t heard Willow’s distress at Buffy’s actions, he could have simply gone down and not fought back. But he was strong enough to stay standing, and so far gone that he could only register that the woman he loved was upset and the cause was standing right in front of him. On instinct and without thought, he attacked.

One day he would look back and think that he understood part of why Spike was so enthralled with killing Slayers. Their blood was rich and satisfying; a bit of ambrosia on the mortal plane. In that moment, however, he was only thinking of feeding.

He began to feel small fists pounding on him, interrupted occasionally by those same hands trying to pull him away from his meal.

“Angel! Please, Angel, you’re killing her!”

He could hear true terror in Willow’s voice, and it brought him slowly back to himself. Before he could pull himself off Buffy, he went flying back, only stopping when he hit the wall of the main room. Sitting in a crumpled heap against that wall, he looked up and saw Willow hovering over her friend, a soft glow coming from where her hand lay against Buffy’s neck. Even as she healed the slayer, he could hear her whispers.

“You can’t do things like this, Buffy. I’m not powerful enough for you to just assume I can save your life.”

Slowly, Buffy raised her hand to hold onto Willow’s forearm.

“Will, I don’t get to say this much, but you’re so very wrong.”

The guilt that gnawed at him doubled when Willow turned to look in his direction. He had disappointed her again. First by not being strong enough to stay and help her heal, and then by not being strong enough to resist fighting back against Buffy. When all was said and done, if you stripped away the supposed destiny that came with his soul and the delusions of grandeur that came without it, he was still just Liam – and Liam had always been weak. 

It seemed like no time had passed before the sun rose and everyone was gathered in the library. Since no one was giving him dirty looks –well, no more than usual, at least –Angel could only assume that the others hadn’t been told how close he had come to draining Buffy. As much as he wanted to pretend that his relief was due only to the fact that they needed to work together, he knew it was mostly because he didn’t want to remember how he’d once again let Willow down. Nearly two and a half centuries and he was still letting the people he cared about down.

The battle planning was, put kindly, stunted and fragmented. Their best lead was Buffy’s cryptic dream-visit from Faith –if the higher powers were on the side of the slayers, then why weren’t they clearer in their message delivery? –though they were all having problems coming up with a human weakness that the Mayor could have that could be used against him. As if summoned by their constant thoughts of him, the future demon came purposely striding through the double doors. He was maintaining calm, but Angel could clearly see that a large part of him was internally raging and that fury was slipping out the closer he got to Buffy.

“You murderous little _whore_! This was supposed to be my Faith’s big day. Instead, you tried to use her to save your useless pet vampire.”

Angel stepped between them just as the Wilkins reached out a hand to Buffy’s neck and shoved the Mayor hard enough to send him crashing against the desk. When he stood up and straightened his suit, he seemed to collect himself. His eyes then swept over the room’s occupants.

“We’re going to have to close the curtain on this act, boys and girls. Don’t you worry, though, the show _will_ go on. Keep an eye out for that final act, it’s going to really bring the house down!”

With that, he turned and left the room, the soles of his expensive shoes leaving behind an angry echo. Suddenly, it clicked in Angel’s mind. Turning back to the others, he gave them the answer they had been looking for.

“Faith.”

The planning went a lot smoother after that. Buffy was in her element, a general commanding her small army in preparation for war. It was moments like this that Angel wished that romance had never came into it with them. He would have been honored to have called this young woman his friend.

Soon enough, the time for planning came to an end, and Mayor Wilkins was at the podium giving a speech that would almost qualify as moving from someone a bit less evil. However, the sky darkened and he nearly doubled over in obvious pain. Angel’s muscles tightened in preparation, waiting for the darkness to come.

Everything began happening at once, and Angel lost himself in the battle. It had been a long time –since before he had his soul –since he’d been able to truly let go and test the limits of his skills. The vampires weren’t old enough to be decent opponents, but there were enough of them to make up in number what they lacked in power.

The explosion stopped everyone in their tracks. When the vampires realized that things had not gone as planned for them, they began a hasty retreat. Angel was snapped out of his post-battle haze by a movement at his side. He watched as Xander walked off –probably to find out how many of his friends and fellow students they had lost–and he took that as his cue to leave.

He had intended to simply slip away in the chaos, knowing that Xander had seen that he had survived and would tell the others. However, the second he caught sight of Willow in a relatively deserted area, his intentions drifted away like smoke on the wind. She had already said her goodbyes and had her closure, but he had been feeling it like an aching wound since then.

As he stopped before her, he was at a loss for words. He could never begin to describe how he equally regretted every moment they shared and cherished them as well. Somewhere along the way she had become the symbol of his temptation and redemption. There were no words to express that, so he didn’t even try. Instead, he gently cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

This kiss was not a promise or a declaration. There was no hope that they could somehow have a future of any kind together. As his lips moved over hers and she responded, he could feel the heavy weight of pain and loss settle in his chest. He was too weak to resist the temptation if he stayed, and she was too smart to ever ask him to try.

This was their goodbye.


End file.
